


Did he just...

by malekin



Series: Popsicle 'Verse [3]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 23:06:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3746950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malekin/pseuds/malekin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I blame catvampcrazines for this, her and her otp ficcage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Did he just...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [catvampcrazines](https://archiveofourown.org/users/catvampcrazines/gifts).



“You’re staring. Again.” Felicity snapped at the current cause of her ire. 

The current cause that sat there, with a, was that a smug smile on his face? Felicity seethed. How dare he, how dare he sit there with that look on his face. The look like he knew exactly what was going on and she was irrational.

A smart man would realize that maybe now was the time to back down, and provide wine…and chocolate…possibly thrown from a safe distance.

Never mind the fact that she wasn’t exactly sure why she was angry at him. She was, and that was bad enough, in fact the whole not having an actual reason was irritating her even more. All of that on top of this frakking heatwave that would. not. quit.

And now that look.

Felicity was fast approaching the end of her rope. Mentally preparing her insanity defense in the untimely death of one Mr. Oliver Queen.

Did he just laugh?

“Did you just laugh?!” She spat out.

Oliver maintained his silence, sitting on her couch, pretty as you please, smirking. His only response seemed to be to lean back, arms behind his head and bare feet propped up on her coffee table.

Ohhhh, that was the last straw. Manners, it seemed had died, along with her patience.

“Oliver Jonas Queen! Take your feet off of my coffee table.” She growled.

His eyebrow quirked up in challenge, smirk growing wider.

Something inside Felicity’s head snapped; but instead of a murderous rage she felt a calm certainty wash over her. A focus that told her exactly what this situation called for.

The red tinge removed from her vision she could see the scene for exactly what it was, Oliver wanted to play. She took in the picture he’d provided. Thin sleep pants, no shirt to obscure her vision of his wonderful upper body, far from closed off, his posture was inviting, taunting, telling her he was hers. 

If she would only come and claim him.

Felicity smiled slowly, and Oliver’s eyes lit up; glad she had finally caught up to the game.

Turning to the freezer she grabbed a blue stick popsicle, separating it from it’s twin she faced Oliver. To his credit, he hadn’t shown the slightest change in expression.

“Oliver?” Felicity walked towards the couch, teasing the tip of the popsicle with her lips.

“Yes, Felicity?”

“Did you forget how I feel about feet on my table?” She swept her tongue up the popsicle to catch the already melting drops before swirling her tongue around the top.

“No, Felicity.”

“Is there a reason your feet are on there?” Felicity stepped one foot over his outstretched legs so that she was standing straddled over them.

Oliver watched in rapt attention as the popsicle disappeared into her mouth.

“Oliver.” She spoke sharply. “I asked you a question.”

“I’m sorry Felicity.”

“Why,” Felicity knelt so she was hovering just above him, “are your feet on my table.”

“To irritate you.”

“To get me here?” Felicity lowered her hips, settling over his lap.

“Yes, Felicity.” his voice was beginning to waver, just slightly.

Felicity waited, taking her time inspecting the man beneath her, watching small beads of sweat make their way from the crown of his head and drip onto his chest.

She gave the popsicle one last working over.

“Are you hot Oliver?” she let her hips push forward ever so slightly.

“Yes, Felicity.” his voice caught, eyes never leaving the spectacle of her lips and the blue ice pop.

“Would you like it if I shared?” she held the treat just out of his mouths reach.

“Yes.”

She pulled the popsicle away, sucking on the tip.

“That wasn’t very polite Oliver.”

“Please.” 

Felicity was pleased by the definite strain she heard in his voice and rewarded him by shifting forward once more, smiling at the half formed groan she heard before he bit it back.

“Good boy.”

She took the popsicle and traced his lips with it, nudging them open and allowing him to taste it. The heat of the room, and his mouth were causing it to melt, drips ran down his chest, making him shiver in response.

Felicity took the popsicle back, catching the drips with her tongue. Oliver stared, fascinated and started to move his hands to her waist.

“Unh-uh.” Felicity chided, “I didn’t say you could do that Oliver.”

He stopped.

“I’m sorry, Felicity.”

“Hands on the sofa Oliver, you don’t get to touch yet.”

“Yes, Felicity.” Oliver lowered his hands to the cushions on either side of him.

“In fact,” Felicity emphasized her words with small, barely there shifts against his hips, “I don’t think you deserve any more of this popsicle Oliver. I think you get to watch me finish it.”

“Yes, Felicity.” 

Pleased with his obedience so far, Felicity set to work finishing the popsicle. Lips, tongue, and teeth worked together along with soft brushes of her hips to his. 

Felicity had never felt more powerful than watching her vigilante pliant beneath her. Following her every move, yet restraining himself as she’d ordered. 

All too soon the popsicle was gone, but the hungry look that had darkened Oliver’s eyes to a deep blue was getting even stronger.

“Mmm, all done.” She leaned back, purposefully putting more pressure onto his lap and deposited the stick into an empty water glass on the table behind her. “Do you know what that means?”

Oliver’s smile widened in a way that could be described as predatory.

“My turn, Felicity.”

Felicity shivered at the husky tone his voice had taken before strong hands circled her hips. Oliver stood and picked her up in one smooth motion, tossing her over his shoulder like a caveman and stalking to the bedroom.

She may have even protested such treatment if she wasn’t well versed in exactly what would happen when they reached their destination.


End file.
